


Bound

by BrittaTheBest



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Autism, Autistic MacGyver, Concern, Gen, Pre-Canon, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-25
Updated: 2018-05-25
Packaged: 2019-05-13 18:46:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14754266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrittaTheBest/pseuds/BrittaTheBest
Summary: The first time Mac goes non-verbal on a mission, Jack is afraid that something is terribly wrong.





	Bound

They haven’t slept in days. They’re hungry, filthy, exhausted. And they’re trapped in a room.

“Any bright ideas there, boy genius?” says Jack. Or, at least, that’s what Mac thinks he says, because Jack is pacing and turned away for half the phrase so he can’t see his lips and the words get snatched away. Somewhere in the building they’re in there’s an air conditioning unit which is apparently a hundred years old, which rattles and wheezes and fills Mac’s whole brain where he needs the space to think about _the door, the lock, how to break a coded lock…_

He reaches desperately into his pocket and to his relief finds an entire chain of paper clips. He pulls them out and begins playing with them, focussing instead on the feeling of the thin metal, the movement of his hands as he twisted at them.

Jack speaks again, maybe asking about the paper clips, but Mac waves him away, unable to hear over the sound of that damn air-conditioner. Can Jack not hear it? It takes up the whole room. He pinches his nose, eyes clenched shut, other hand still fiddling with the paperclips. The noise fades a little.

“You okay, buddy?” Jack’s voice is suddenly sharp in its clarity. Mac almost flinches. He opens his eyes.

 _I’m fine. I just need to think_ , he says. Only, he doesn’t. Jack is still looking at him, waiting for his reply. _Fuck._ He can’t speak. Screwing up his face in frustration, he returns to the task at hand. _The code lock on the door uses magnets. If he could –_

“Mac.” Jack _grabs Mac’s arm_. Mac has to concentrate hard on not having a full meltdown. He breathes steadily. The feel of his shirt on his skin is greasy and scratchy -- The feel of the paperclips. The feel of his fingers flying across them, repeating, repeating, repeating. Order. Control. _The electromagnetic impulses…_

He becomes hyper aware of his wide eyes, how difficult it is to control his breathing. Jack looks… scared. Terrified.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

_I’m fine._

“Is it – Mac, did they give you something? Is it poison? Here, sit down.”

_I just need to concentrate, let go of me._

“Come on, buddy, speak to me. Please. Please say something, Mac.”

_I am. I’m trying._

Mac manages to pull away, waving his arms at Jack while keeping both hands dancing across the chain. He can hear wisps of his own breath gasping, ghosting across his lips, but it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. The air conditioner doesn’t matter. He goes over to the lock. And suddenly he has it.

He drops the paperclips back into his pocket and runs to pull the copper wire from the skirting board.

 

* * *

 

Jack finds Mac later sitting on a bench outside. They’ve both been checked over already. Mac still hasn’t spoken.

“You alright?” says Jack, once he is standing beside him. He hands him a bottle of water.

Mac looks up at him, then down. He takes the bottle and immediately finds the end of the paper label, running his nail along it. He nods.

Jack takes a seat beside him, but far enough away that they aren’t touching. “Anything you wanna talk about?”

Mac takes a deep breath. The fresh air feels good, in his lungs and on his skin. He still hasn’t slept, but he’s eaten, and he’s hydrated, and they gave him a clean shirt. It’s quiet here. He feels good. “Jack…” He turns his head so that it’s angled more towards him. “I’m… sorry. I lost it a bit back there. I was overwhelmed, I just…”

“Anything like that ever happen to you before?”

Did he know? Someone could have told him. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, it happens sometimes. Not often. I can usually manage it, but this mission was just… a lot, you know.”

Jack sniffed. “Patricia knows about this? Nikki?”

Mac offered a grim, apologetic smile, and nodded. “Yeah. They both know.”

“And the whole time we were in Afghanistan…”

“My whole life. Yeah.”

“Right.”

There’s a pause. Mac puts the water bottle between his knees so that both hands are free to rub his palms against his pants.

“Mac… We’re a team, alright? Now, I care about you, and if knowing any of this stuff is gonna make it easier for me to protect you, or help you, or just make your life easier, you can always talk to me about it, alright?”

Mac smiles, and looks Jack in the face. “Yeah, alright. Thanks, Jack.”


End file.
